Fight or Flight: The Balance Between
by S.R. Sombini
Summary: "Citizens of Panem, may I present the victor of the 73rd Hunger Games, Ellah Beckworth, the tribute of District 10!" The year before Katniss's had taken everyone by surprise. The story of a girl who is perhaps too clever and independent for her own good.
1. Chapter 1

"Up, get up!" a loud rapping on the door woke Ellah with a start. She let out a long breath, shaking away the remains of her dream. Day by day the reaping was drawing ever nearer, and it was always at this time in the year where nightmares kicked in, almost non-stop.

Once again she relived the last few days of her eldest brother's life. Though she had been just four when he became a tribute, she remembered every moment of the games that she had been forced to watched. It had started off promising, he made it nearly a week in the arena, fending off other tributes though never killing them. Finally the careerists caught him, viciously bludgeoning his head and body with handmade clubs.

His pained screams echoed in her head for a few more minutes as she stumbled to her feet, managing to slip into a pair of pants and a shirt, before leaving her small bedroom.

Geoff had been the oldest of her four siblings - seventeen at the time of his reaping. She was the youngest, now eighteen.

Growing up in District 10 gave a person mixed feelings. When she was younger, aside from the annual games, it had always been fun - as the primary district of livestock, there were countless farms and fields to play in, for days on end. She almost couldn't recall the various games and sports they had made up, or the sometimes convoluted scoring they kept.

She walked heavily down the stairs of their quaint cottage, falling into one of the open seats at the table. By now she was the only one left living in the house, officially having her own room as of last year. Her three remaining brothers had married and moved out to make their own livings as farmhands. Swiping a hand over her eyes, she watched as her mother put a plate in front of her.

Eggs and toast, never more, never less. It was ironic, for all the animals and products that they nurtured through life for the Capitol, and they still got just enough food to live. Most months.

"Eat quickly, you've already had a lie in. Your father wants help today. You know the Peacekeepers start rolling in about this time."

Ellah sighed, but obeyed the order despite her stomach's unease at the mention of the upcoming reaping. Her mother was home most of the time, only leaving when a farm animal was injured or sick. Her father, in opposite to most, owned a butchers shop, one of the few other important jobs in the district. He slaughtered, prepped, and packed most meats that went to the Capitol, though some was able to be saved for the district itself, at an extra expense of course.

Finishing, she returned the plate to the sink before retrieving her well worn shoes, sliding them on along with a light coat before walking out the door, shutting it behind her. She took the well trodden path that would lead her into town in just a few minutes. From there it was another five before she would reach the market street - the butchers shop right on the corner.

She let herself in the back door, familiar scent of raw meat and blood invading her senses. Having grown up around it, she was well used to the smell. With a deep breath, she grabbed one of the several aprons that were hanging near the door, switching it for her jacket before securing it with a knot.

"Ellah?"

"Here," she replied, following his voice, rounding a corner just as he cleaved the head of a chicken off in one swipe. Like her, he had dark hair and eyes, and olive toned skin. Unlike her, he was tall and well muscled from years of lugging meats and wielding knives. She on the other hand was hardly average height, just taller than her mother, with not a lot of visible muscle, though she was surprisingly strong from years of rough housing with her much bigger brothers, helping with different chores on farms, and of course her daily tasks in the butchers shop.

"Can you take over here?" he asked, voice tired. He opened shop exactly at dawn every day, working until late in the afternoon, the only exception being the reaping day - when the shop was closed, and the following games, where the hours were cut short. With a nod she complied, crossing the room to accept the large knife he held out for her. When he had gone to clean his hands, she studied the sharp, mean looking blade for a moment. With a flick of her wrist, she tossed it into the air with a twirl before catching it with well practiced ease.

After years of exposure, she was fairly proficient with the various uses of knives, though her mother would probably put her under house arrest if she ever were to catch wind of it. In contrast her father simply looked at her with a hint of pride. With that she started sectioning the meat, beef, in a well versed manner.

* * *

The week seemed to speed by and before she knew it, Ellah was waking up to see a pale green, thin strapped dressed laid out before her, paired with a soft brown pair of boots - worn only on special occasions. With trepidation she ignored the clothes, moving to the house's lone bathroom, where the tub had already been filled with heated water. That sinking feeling still in her gut, she meticulously scrubbed down her body, the best bath she had had in weeks, before returning to her room to dress slowly as her hair dried in a mess of curls.

With reluctance, she pinned a few up, out of her face, making it appear at least somewhat tame; she generally wore it pulled back in a tight ponytail, but her mother would never let her leave the house like such on the reaping day. Thankfully it was her last year in the mix, she thought to herself. No more dressing up nice or sickness to worry about anymore.

Ready she slowly made her way to the kitchen, sitting down to her normal breakfast, which she ate in silence. For once her mother didn't push her to talk.

"Now don't you be getting dirty," her mother sternly ordered. There was little under an hour before they needed to get to the town square.

Ellah didn't respond, but stared blankly at one of the kitchen knives, which was laid out on the counter. She finished up before taking her leave, walking at a leisurely pace to the market area, where other teens were already lining up at the registrar. With a silent battle of wills, she joined the line, which moved slowly. It was several minutes of waiting before her turn.

The lady at the table pricked her finger, before she pressed it to the paper next to her identity.

"Go through."

Slowly Ellah obeyed, making her way to the small crowd in the front, where the oldest prospects were. She gave a polite nod in greeting to those she recognized from school and such, but stayed silent. Being the youngest in a moderately successful income family, she had never had to take a tesserae, though her brothers had before. As such her name was only in there 28 times. Less than some, but still a daunting number in her opinion. After all, it only took one paper for your name to potentially be drawn.

It was several more minutes of waiting before Mayor Forthrite took the stage, droning on about the Game's origins and purpose, and how crucial it was to the continuation of life in the country. Not a speck of truth was spoken, which everyone knew and accepted. After his all-too-long speech, District 10's chaperone, a dark skinned woman with neon hair and makeup named Naja Fink, stepped up to the microphone.

"Hello, hello, good morning District 10," she said in an silky smooth sort of way that the district members were well used to - she had been their chaperone for the last several years now. "As always, before we begin we have a few words from the Capitol."

Her smirk seemed cocky, as if she enjoyed their trepidation. That's exactly what it is, Ellah thought bitterly, tuning out the usual video that she had memorized by heart. Instead she fixed her dark gaze on the woman at the microphone, eyes unwavering even though the attention wasn't on her.

"Such inspiration," Naja spoke after a moment, when the clip finally ended. "And without further ado, happy Hunger Games. And may the odds be ever in your favor."

There was an odd glint to her eye that Ellah tried not to read too deeply into. In just minutes, several tense minutes, some poor child's name would be drawn. And she would officially be done with the games. She tuned out the speech that the capitol woman was giving the crowd, having heard it all before.

"And now, ladies first," she said with a sly smirk. She moved fluidly over to the large bowl of papers on the right, reaching gracefully in, mixing papers all together before removing a single folded slip. With her prize in hand, she moved back to the microphone before breaking the waxed seal, unfolding it. Her eyes scanned the name, before she looked back to the crowd, still smirking.

"Ellah Beckworth."

For a second everything ceased to exist to the brunette, as her breath caught. She struggled to inhale, feeling as though she had been kicked in the chest.

"Ellah Beckworth, if you would come forward."

Ellah slowly blinked, coming to. Her breaths were short, but quiet as she stepped forward with incredible reluctance. Naja's face seemed to light with glee when the brunette finally climbed the stairs. She immediately led her to beside the microphone, clapping her hands. When no one followed, she slowed, before letting out a quiet 'hmm'.

With difficulty, Ellah swallowed the lump that formed in her throat, keeping her mind as blank as possible. Chin dropped slightly, her eyes swept the crowd, finding her parents way in the back, as well as her brothers, who had turned up in silent support. The thunderstruck look on her mothers face burned into her mind - thought not always approving of her only daughter, she had already lost a son to these games. Ellah watched as the woman turned into her father, hiding her tears. Her brothers held looks of disbelief.

Perhaps the hardest to see yet was her father, a mixture of heartbreak and fear that she had never seen on the strong man's face before. With increasing difficulty she kept up her facade, forcing her mind into silence.

"Shake hands you two."

Blinking once again, Ellah looked to her right in a daze. Jensen Brooks, a farmhand from a middle class family (what was middle class in the outlaying districts at least). He was two years younger than her, without a sliver of athleticism or cunning in his body. She'd be surprised if he made it past the bloodbath, to be brutally honest with herself. With the same blank stare, her mind now concentrated on just the basics of survival functions, she caught his green eyes, briefly shaking his hand before turning straight once more.

With a few more ending words, the two were herded into the Justice building, where they would wait for a final good bye to their families before being moved to the train. Her parents came in first.

Ellah hugged her sobbing mother with her jaw clenched as she fought against her emotions. She could cry tonight, when she was alone, out of sight, and away from cameras. As her mother blathered away nonsense in her arms, her father stood beside her, all previous distress wiped from his darkened features. He was a visage of poise and confidence, silently lending her strength. With her mother lost in her own world of misery, father and daughter locked eyes, conveying both everything and nothing silently.

"You know how to fight," he said simply. Nothing more, nothing less. Oddly it was the most reassuring thing Ellah could have hoped for. She did know how to fight. She could hold her own in a wrestling match, even if outsized, and not to mention she was handy with a knife.

But physical combat was just a small part of the games; there was so much more to winning them. With renewed determination, Ellah knew exactly what she would do to survive, plan already taking form in her head.

Because after all, like her father said, she was a fighter.

* * *

With inspiration from the movie, which I have seen twice already, I leave you here. In good news, I graduate next month, so I'll have a little bit of writing time before I hit school again. In bad news, I have at least 3 tests a week until then. Eww. Lastly, I do not own any rights or characters to _The Hunger Games_.

- Shannon Riley


	2. Chapter 2

After her parents left, her brothers came in as a pack.

"El," Dru started, but was at a loss of words. He was the closest to her in age, three years older. Ellah simply nodded, somehow understanding what he wanted to say. He sighed, stepping forward instead to wrap her in his strong arms. The embrace was familiar, not in the awkward way of her mom's. As if cued, Adrian and Chase were right behind him, adding to the hug.

Ellah let out a shuddering breath, accepting their comfort.

"Remember what Geoff did," Chase ordered when he pulled back. He was the oldest now, ten years her senior.

"I already do," Ellah assured him. "But I won't get caught."

Chase nodded.

"You can take care of yourself in a fight," he continued, much like their father had. Ellah was nodding. "So you need to learn how to survive outside of a fight. How to get food. How to hide. That's what you need to do between now and that countdown."

Chase had idolized the eldest Beckworth child in a way that only a little brother could. They all had, but being the oldest of the four, he had had a better knowledge. He probably understood her situation the best because of this.

"That was my plan," she nodded. Chase gave one final nod.

"Good."

"You can do this El," Adrian finally broke his silence, laying one large hand on her shoulder. "Out of all of us, it's you."

The middle brother was the quietest of the entire lot, only speaking when deemed necessary. She felt a touch of warmth knowing that she had merited the response. Against her will, she felt a familiar prick at her eyes, closing them and holding her breath.

Not yet, she thought. After a moment, she opened them again.

"You got this," Dru said, before another group hug. All too soon the peacekeepers were banging on the door, telling them that time was up. It was a little longer before she was lead out of the room, meeting up with Jensen again as they were transported to the train.

* * *

"And here is your room for the trip," Naja said in her silky smooth tone. Ellah pushed open the door, taking in the room silently. It was quite possibly the most luxurious thing she had ever seen, right after the rest of the train. Having grown up in a relatively big family, she was used to a more cramped, disorganized, well lived in mess.

"Dinner is in an hour."

Ellah simply nodded, waiting for the dark woman to leave before closing the door. Slowly she stepped further into the room, running her hands over the elegantly made bed, feeling the soft velvet of the top blanket. She wandered to a dresser, sliding open a drawer with curiosity. More types of underwear than she had ever seen before. The next drawer was a variety of shirts, followed by pants. Peeking at some of the tags, she noted they were all right around her size.

Interesting, she noted, before moving to the closet. There were even more clothes, and shoes, in it. With a sigh she slid the door shut and crossed the room to flop onto the bed, sinking into the mattress with a muffled groan. It was soft. Too soft, compared to her bed at home. She lay there what seemed like half the night, staring blankly at the ceiling. A knock interrupted her brooding, and she sat up.

"Come in."

Naja was back, studying her face critically.

"Dinner," she reminded her new charge. "The boy is already there."

Ellah blinked, before nodding slightly, clambering to her feet. She followed the bigger woman from the room, door shutting by itself.

"I expect you to be on-time for everything," the Capitol woman continued. Ellah didn't deem it response worthy as they entered the dining cart. Ellah headed to the seat beside Jensen, giving him a brief nod in greetings. His face was red, tear marks still evident, and she swallowed at the sight. Sinking into her chair, she idly toyed with the silverware as she took in the plates of food, many of which she had never seen before. The aroma's that hit her nose made her sit just slightly straighter.

"We're just waiting on the mentors," Naja informed the two teens. It was several minutes later when three people strolled in - District 10's remaining living victors. An elderly woman with short, curly white hair took the seat at one end of the table, looking at the teens with tired eyes after she sat. Izra Thackeray, winner of the 21st Hunger Games, where she had been entered at age 17. As a victor, you were almost guaranteed a longer lifespan than someone who still struggled day to day without money or food. If you took care of yourself that is, and Izra Thackeray was nothing if not cautious.

Izra was something of a legacy back in District 10, as she had won the games without ever being in a direct physical conflict. Having managed to survive until the final four, though there had been some close calls, the woman had slowly been building a stash of food - enough to last for at least a week. Then she proceeded to viciously booby trap her entire camp site, leaving only a spot for her shelter and food, so when the other tributes, all careers, finally tracked her down, they were dead before they could even get within striking range of the girl.

Settling on the opposite side of the table from the two tributes were two men, an older man who Ellah knew to be her father's age, and a much younger man, somewhere in his mid thirties. Thatch Plumme and Jonah Ackley, winners of the 39th and 53rd Hunger Games respectively. Thatch was a hulking man, and won solely based off of his physical strength, while Jonah had won with a mixture of clever traps and sheer luck.

There was silence for a few moments as the group tucked into their foods, Ellah slowly slicing a fine piece of roast beef, savoring the rich flavor that she had tried only rare bites of before now.

"So," Izra started, after dinner was well underway. "You two got any special talents?"

Jensen looked positively green at the thought before miserably shaking his head. Ellah simply shrugged, not wanting to give away anything to anyone.

"Having lived this long in life?" she murmured dryly, before ducking her head, pushing around the creamy potatoes, vibrant vegetables, and pieces of meat left on her plate. After her initial few bites the little appetite she had had waned.

The silence was deafening.

"Buck up, kiddo," Thatch said after a moment. Being an old school friend of her fathers, Ellah had met him several times before. It was a bit reassuring, going into the arena knowing that someone with any bit of control had a personal interest in your well being.

Ellah pursed her lips, eyes never leaving her plate as she continued to mash up her food halfheartedly.

"These games already took my brother from us. I just don't see how my family can go through that again," she stated, voice hoarse. "Can I go?"

Receiving a nod from Izra, the brunette pushed herself away from the table, not bothering to slide the chair back in as she stalked off without a backwards glance. Making it to her room, she locked the door behind her before she finally let the stress of the day hit her.

With a choked sob, she fell onto the bed, curling up as she cried herself to sleep.

* * *

She woke up unusually early the next morning, a dull headache reminding her of the night before. Thankfully after releasing her bottled up emotions, she was feeling more grounded.

Rising from the bed, she stripped off her green dress that she was still wearing, underclothes littering the floor on her way to the en suite. The bathroom looked like nothing she had ever seen before, bright and polished, a large stand in shower with more knobs than necessary took up nearly half the room. The toilet was simple, yet shining, sink ornate.

After relieving herself, she stepped into the shower, closing the glass door behind her as she studied the different knobs. She tried the biggest one, and jumped when water started pouring from the ceiling. The water was somewhere between lukewarm and hot, her preferred temperature if she were ever able to choose. After trying some of the other knobs, and finding a nice smelling soap, she scrubbed herself clean, feeling like a different person when she shut the water off and stepped out of the stall, wrapping herself up in a soft towel.

Heading back to her room she noted that her dress had disappeared. With a slight frown she shrugged, heading to the drawers before she grabbed a pair of loose, dark denim pants and a green silky t-shirt before sliding her boots back onto her feet. She pulled her hair back into a high, loose ponytail. As it dried it started to curl itself in its typical manner.

She wandered from her room, down the hallway to the meal cart. Naja was already there, sipping from a large, gaudy mug as she lounged on a couch. Izra and Jonah were seated at the table, talking amicably in light tones. They quieted as she made her way over, but Ellah paid no mind, taking the same seat she had the night before, across from Thatch's empty seat.

"Early riser?" Izra questioned the girl as she piled eggs and toast onto her plate. Ellah shrugged.

"Sometimes," she agreed lightly, in a far better mood. Jensen showed up several minutes later, bleary eyed and yawning. He threw himself into the seat next to Ellah before piling his plate with more food than she thought possible for him to consume. Thatch entered right afterwards, taking his own seat before helping himself to the food. Ellah ate in silence, discretely studying her companions.

Izra and Jonah resumed their conversation, something or other about the capital's politics. Thatch added his own input at odd intervals. Jensen seemed to come alive with the more food he consumed. Naja just ignored everyone, attention finely tuned to the stack of papers in her hands. Ellah continued to watch while finishing her breakfast.

"We'll be there this afternoon," Izra finally addressed her two tributes. Placing her fork down, Ellah sat back in the chair, nodding her understanding before glancing to Jensen.

He was looking rather ill again - from the abundance of food or the thought of what awaited at and after the Capitol, she couldn't tell.

This kid is definitely not making it out of the blood bath, she thought, feeling oddly relieved. That would just mean she wouldn't be stuck with killing him. She wasn't exactly sure how she would return to District 10 with that hanging over her head.

* * *

And here is part two, my birthday gift to you all. Since life is finally settling down (I've moved twice this year and went three months without any internet), I'll hopefully be able to get into the groove of writing regularly. I don't have a whole lot of little details thought out for this story, but I know generally where I want to take it, so please stay tuned!

-Shannon Riley


End file.
